


Hymn to the Departed

by Astr



Series: Technotics and Heavenly Bodies [4]
Category: Hyperdrive (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies, Longing, Pining, So Sorry about that, Soulmates, There is a dead calf, terato?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25853953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astr/pseuds/Astr
Summary: Sol Davara is the best Veterinarian in the area. He's pretty good at caring for people too. When Stella's cow goes into labour prematurely, he's there to help soften the loss.And maybe meet his soulmate.
Relationships: Sol (Hyperdrive)/Stella (Hyperdrive)
Series: Technotics and Heavenly Bodies [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875853





	Hymn to the Departed

**Author's Note:**

> For Allie. Love ya.
> 
> Heads up, this one is heavy. Nothing explicit, but there is pain.

Diamonds litter her cheeks, and she has never been so beautiful. His soul longs for her, craves the feeling of her soft, small body pressed tightly into his, to shield her from the burn of the world.

His arms pull her in, gentle, afraid to break her while she is so fragile, but she presses in, and her fluffy head nestles perfectly in the crook where his neck meets his chest, as though his body was molded to comfort her. His heart sings, a mournful but beautiful melody, delight in finding its mate, and sorrow at her anguish, and fear she would never understand. That can wait, for now, while he is here to comfort.

"I… am so sorry, Stella."

The name is still unsure on his tongue. But he grows more adept at uttering it.

"Me too," her soft reply.

They stay this way a moment, shielded in grief from the outside world, where new life waits to ease the pain.

He knows her eyes, so full, must burn, and it is easy enough to place his hand over them, letting his cool skin soothe the ache. He considers what he can do. He can help, somehow, surely.

Food.

He can take that worry from her. Can make sure she takes moderate care of herself through the thick fog of hurt.

He can make a proper grave for the lost little one, a tender mercy for the body that never drew breath.

He can ensure the other animals are fed, are comfortable, if only so she may rest this night and be able to start fresh in the morning.

All these things he can do. So he will.

"Get inside, Stella. I will take care of everything. Please. Rest. Shower or bathe. Give yourself this moment."

She makes no protest, and so he guides her from the barn, making sure to block her from seeing the calf one more time, to her lovely little home, into the door.

"I will be back in three hours with food to last until tomorrow evening, alright? I can leave it on the porch. Call me tomorrow night so I know you're going to be okay?"

He knows it sounds pleading. It is. He exists, at this moment, to care for her.

Luckily she agrees.

Off he goes, first to clean the mother cow, much quicker to move on with her pain, much more comfortable in the circles that life weaves, and he is tender as he moves the body, so tiny, into a grave. He leaves a handful of flower petals to mark it, a gesture of his own people.

"May you be happier next time, little one," he murmurs, a hope as much as ritual.

Then it is off to make food. He is much more able to cook for humans these days, their palettes not so different. Though he holds back the intoxicants this time. There will be chances for that later, when he knows she is in a proper way. His food is hearty, "stick to the bones" as his human friends would say, though it is much more likely to stick to arteries. He does not worry about this with Stella. She is hearty. Bred for hard work and great enjoyment.

He wonders how it will be to know her deeper secrets.

But there is time for that.

For now, he bears her pain with her, and leaves a heaping portion of "comfort food" and a chocolate kind of "iced cream" for her, with a note of comfort, prayers his people offer those moved on.

He will come again, for the next cow's birth, and feels confident it will go much better. Maybe with a celebration, he might begin to properly love her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope next go around is less sad.


End file.
